


Creek week

by GardeniaBlin



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GardeniaBlin/pseuds/GardeniaBlin
Summary: A little bit mafia AU. Sweet. First day, i choose coffeshop.





	1. Chapter 1

Day1. Coffeshop.

If life are moments, he knows where his begins. A memory held in his memory like a chandelier to illuminate him from within. The wind on his face, the warmth of Craig's arm on his shoulders. His perfume, his natural smell and that of the cigar remind him that he is safe. That there is nothing better than being on foot, or rather, walking the top of the world in a fucking Alfa Romeo.

 

The daily hustle and bustle of a developing town does not include new faces. He knows by heart what each person who enters the small family business orders, he knows each client by name. Not in vain has he passed there every evening since he was eight years old. Maybe for a normal teenager of sixteen, serving coffee is not his ideal of fun but he is not exactly a sociable person. He also finds the aroma of coffee relaxing, it is his element. There is nothing of interest for the world in that village, it is rare to see new people. That is why he sharpens his ear behind the bar when he hears the men murmur about the luxurious car that has just been parked. He returns the attention to the cappuccino that he prepares, wagging his shoulders with a little of presumption, thinking that he must be another one of those foolish businessmen wanting to buy the secret recipe of the house. The masculine murmurs mingle with drowned feminine cries. The reality melted after the sound of the bell announcing the door. All heads turned. An ungainly gait, with his hands inside the pockets of his pants. A designer suit tailored for a perfect body. And that beautiful face, expressionless, with eyes that could only be blue to accuse his coldness. All pure magnetism, what did he do in a place as gray as that town? He would be lost, Tweek thought, not noticing that the cup already overflowed the liquid pouring on it. He would be dreaming, he said when he saw him approach him and for a brief moment, he would swear he smiled at him.

 

-If you finished flooding the bar, I would appreciate it if you would make me an espresso, sweetie- that flat voice, made to order, forces him to look with blush at the disaster he has done. He mutters an apology and begins to clean, grateful that the bar covers his legs or everyone would witness his tremors. Prepare the drink and extend it.

 

-Here he is, sir- what a fool he must hear himself shaking, what a fool must look furiously flushed when the stranger holds his hand over the tiny glass.

 

-Sir? If I'm just twenty-one- Tweek can not move his fingers, although he's holding the glass to his lips and some droplets stain him, burning- I'm on a business trip and I really do not know anyone, would you mind guiding me? -

  
  


Sixteen years of a polished routine, of the same faces, of the same place. Sixteen years that he did not care when he took off his apron and let himself be taken by the waist by that stranger to come out before the worried questions of his mother. Sixteen years that were suddenly lit only with the touch, only with the breath escaping those lips "by the way, my name is Craig" and everything else was no longer visible by the flames that enveloped him.

 

He never tried to deceive him, he consoled himself. From the first moment he made it clear what his business was and the risk. But he was too lost to hear it. Enraptured by the excesses, for being a mountain boy in first class to Rome, by the furious savage blessed nights of his body against his. For the kisses on the forehead every morning. By the outbursts of violence when another man dared to set his eyes on him. Because he was fucking in love and the rest did not interest he. Not even when they were ambushed in a quiet dinner in Manhattan and the bullet twisted its way to him. Not even when dad did not answer his calls again. Not even when Craig was gone for weeks without telling him where he was going and Tweek stayed there, waiting for him with a "stay" painfully embraced his insides

 

He never tried to deceive him, he apologized when he proposed to change his life. Something more modest, something that does not make him fall asleep praying to see him the next day. Something with which he can present him to his increasingly scarce circle of friends. It is not necessary to say it, he know it. Him is that kind of men who know their place and do not fear to occupy it, too wild to go with the laws. Too fragile to be alone. Constantly divided. So fucking at the limit. And Tweek has no choice but to run to meet him when he hears the engine of his car, three, six weeks after not knowing anything about him, kissing him with the rage of who knows he lost everything in a bet that from the beginning was that . Pull the suit off before he even open the door, cling. Cling.

 

It was not the first time he had tried to leave, that he had decided to get out of it, go home, go back to sleep at night, burn his fingers in the coffeshop, at the slow monotony he could confuse with calm. He leaves his beautiful postcard house with a bitter on the chest, but decides that his nerves will not stand any more. He caresses the scar on his belly that left the bullet when leaving. It is not time to remember, it is time to leave. His  little suitcase looks ridiculous compared to everything he left in his wardrobe, in the room. Stripes cage does not move so he knows she sleeps. No doubt Craig is not going to forgive him for having also fled with his pet, but being fair, in his life as a mobster there was no room for a guinea pig. Breathe Close his eyes, giving himself courage. The sound of the engine tears any thought that may remain and again the reality melting before its ungainly step. His hands in his pockets, leaning against the cloak. Double or nothing, damn it. He tempts his stroke of luck that has allowed him to survive, approaching him.

  
\- Do you want to take a walk, honey? - impassive before his  suitcase, before the cage, before the reality that only he manages to melt and mold at will. He runs his hand down his cheek, taking his desire to start over. Because any price to be next to that man, to belong to him, to see in his eyes that tenderness that is only his, is fair. Because he loves him, he really loves him. And if it's not enough reason...


	2. Aliens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This day i choose Aliens :3

_ I sailed galaxies of silence only for this moment that is going to be forgotten _ .  No matter how hard he tried to regulate his breathing, the oxygen was running out and he knew it. Still, the instinct for survival did not leave him, making his lungs absorb only a few tiny breaths to ration it.   
  
He was going to die mad but being the sole owner of the most wonderful sight in the universe, there, in the heights, in the non-gravity that had dragged him when an unexpected body hit his ship and took him out of his way. There, in the nothingness that would see him perish and disappear, only left to feel fortunate to die in his element: Space.   
  
As a child, perhaps since before he was born, Craig knew that his destiny was the stars and he entrusted them all his life. He did not rest until he was one of the first to embark on a reconnaissance space mission. An insignificant life of twenty-three years, swallowed by space. If huge planets older than time had been devoured, what made him think that his fragile existence would not be crushed? Ah, human megalomania, an Icarus of his time. His head was a hotbed of puncturing nerves but he did not want to miss the show. That black eternally stained with inert light was going to cradle him until his last breath. He began to breathe more strongly, finally giving himself up. He extended his arms and let himself be carried away.   
  
However, a translucent membrane moved beside him, opening his tired eyes. It was like a jellyfish but longer and slender. Radiating a green light that somehow calmed him down. There, where he intuited his face, he found some beautiful rectangular openings that reflected all the colors absorbed by the black of space. Those filaments on his head looked like untidy, blond hair. He covered it and dragged it like a fish in a net at an impossible speed. Impossible as the air that filled his injured lungs. He could see other identical membranes surrounding his ship. He could see the lights inside turn on. He felt liberated by the membrane and in a desperate movement to thank him, he held an edge   
  
_ I surfed galaxies of silence just to meet you. _ __   
  
  
Craig Tucker connected to the control tower and everyone there considered it a miracle. They did not delay his return one more second. He was received as a national hero and he spoke a thousand times about everything he had lived, but never revealing his secret.   
  
The space was inhabited by sirens

 


	3. Supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I choose supernatural!

He should not have let himself be convinced so easily, but in reality he did not have much to lose either. Just a few hours and given the circumstances of his sad marriage, he preferred to lose the night between the suffocating aroma of incense and the Louisiana-style lights that hurt his eyes. Clyde was waiting for him in the dilapidated little room where he had been minutes before, questioning where he got that “Tarot" flyer and why he had dragged him. And yet there he was now, sitting in that plastic chair that seemed to wait for a false move to break, looking at the woman in front of him without losing the half smile even though it was evident that she was waiting for a word to begin her quackery.

 

-I see you're a man of few words- she said at the end, taking out a small velvet bag from his apron and opening it. She made the sign of the cross on the deck of cards and Craig rolled his eyes. That idiot Clyde and his stupid ideas. The woman extended her hand and Craig hurried to take out his wallet, making she laugh-Is it your first time, child? - He blushed at the slightly insinuating raspy tone-give me your hand, you pay me at the end-obeyed, returning to save his wallet and hold out her hand. Her touch was soft but her skin had a scorching heat. He saw her close her eyes, whispering something with her hand still on the mallet. Again her black eyes were nailed, kind but deep-what do you want to know? -

  
  


-To begin, why my friend convinced me to come with you instead of going to a brothel like a normal man- laughed again, waving her long blonde hair and slightly tilting his head back, letting see the beginning of his breasts and Craig cocked his lips a little. There was his answer. The woman, still with a brief smile, started shuffling the cards

  
  


-If you do not want to ask, then let's listen to what they have to tell me about you- distributed the cards on the table. Three rows of five cards each. His brow furrowed with the first row. When he finished lifting the last card, there was no trace of smile or color left on his cheeks. She looked at him more closely, in total seriousness- let me see your hand- the dark haired man obeyed, watching with some mockery how she seemed really petrified by the lines in her. She released his hand with more strength than he expected, and could see in her tight lips a sudden rage - you did something terrible

 

That girl, apart from being quite attractive, was a very good actress. He looked at his hands, as if looking for something.   
  
\- With this hand? Well, sometimes my wife has a headache and I have needs-   
  
-You broke the tie- she said, squeezing the edges of the tablecloth- you left him-   
  
-What the hell are you talking about?-

 

-He offered you his soul!- The long enameled nail landed on a special card-and you left it swallowed- still looking at him with deep hatred, gathering the cards and placing them at one end of the table. Craig then also lost a bit of color. She could not be talking about that. No one knew. He almost did not even think about it - I swear I'd like to kick you out, but I can not leave a session half-spit, shuffling again- Will you ask a question?

  
  


-Are you serious? - Said with doubt, less sardonic but trying not to lose the bearing- I think you're kidding me-   
  
-If you really were convinced, you would not have agreed to come and see me. There is something that is tormenting you- she sighed, distributing three rows of three cards this time-how young were you are? You were very good friends, he loved you. You ... You also loved him- his voice broke slightly- you were linked by a lasso. One very strong-

 

She could not being refer to that. No to Tweek. He had buried it deep in his memory several years ago and never mentioned it. Not even Clyde. It was not possible for her to know that he spent his adolescence and part of her childhood in love with his best friend and that they had actually had a relationship in secret. They never put on a title but they kissed, they slept together, they were constantly worried about the other. They loved everything a couple of fifteen-year-olds could love. Tweek was always strange, he was interested in things that used to horrify others and he always had a controversial subject to talk and be silenced by some weak soul. But Tweek was not a weak soul. He was courageous and although sometimes he got too anxious to be the person he was, he never wore a mask. He was deeply in love with every one of his quirky and extravagant ideas. Even when he felt him cutting off strands of hair while thought he was asleep or taking pictures that did not show him later. That night he  take him to the cemetery and show him the pair of dolls joined by a red thread, it seemed romantic, that he asked them to bury them so that they would be united forever, it did not seem strange to him. That they ended up having sex on the grave they had just desecrated was just another of those nights that had remained tattooed on his soul. But it was obvious that they ever stumbled and someone discovered them. The rumors began and Tweek, as dashed as he was, proposed that they escape. He showed him the tickets to a city he no longer remembered, making accounts of how they should live the first months in the house of a cousin of his who would help them. Craig was enthusiastic, determined and agreed to meet him in the next town in the morning. But the doubts ate him while he was spinning in his bed. Sure Tweek was not going to get that far, that is, no matter how crazy he was, he did not believe he could leave his family, his friends and the place that saw them grow only because it was a mountain town where it would probably be very scandalous talk about their relationship. Because in the end they were very young and it could be that what they felt as definitive was only a whim, one of those "stages" that adults talked so much about. He spent the day with his other friends and at home, assuring himself that Tweek would reconsider. But two days later his mother knocked on the door, asking in a broken voice if he knew anything about her son.

 

Had he spent all those nights barely sleeping, had he rubbed alcoholism to silence his guilt? Had he ever cried his cowardice and the incredible pain of having lost that fire where to burn, that one glimpse of the paradise he had? It was a secret. He left it behind when two years later he left the town for university. He forged a new personality, he covered himself with poses, he kept himself so that nobody knew. It was a secret and it was not possible that this penetrating-eyed blonde woman knew it. But she looked as sure, as affected as if he had told her himself.

  
-Is he okay?-  said timidly. She took a few seconds analyzing the figures on the cards.   
  
-It cost him a lot of work to overcome that you betrayed him, but in the end he was able to move on and now he's fine- she turned the cards of the next row and again took a few seconds to talk again- much better than you, apparently- the Five of Cups- this letter speaks of regrets for the past but also for a recent loss-   
  
He opened his eyes to his limits, swallowed painful saliva at the memory of the brief days that held his son in his arms before the disease snatched him away. He didn't even have two months. He completely collapsed and it was still too painful to talk about. His child had been his only joy, his ray of hope and having buried him was too much. He gasped as if he had been beaten. The grudge that had been born to Red and his apparent indifference to his loss came back.   
  
\- Was it a kind of revenge? -   
  
-From that child?-Craig nodded-Of course not, dear. That child has the noblest soul you can imagine. In spite of everything, he continues to take care of you and that is why he seems to have tried to communicate with you. He want to warn you of something-   
  
-Of what?-   
  
  
Ten of Swords. The Hung.The Moon.   
  
  
-Sweetheart- the blonde lowered her tone and ventured to caress her hand with condescension-Somebody wants to see you dead-


	4. Day 3 SoT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This contain NSFW! i forgot to post it, hahahaha.

He felt the grass rustling under his feet and held his breath. He sharpened his sight more, almost melting into the tree that served as his hiding place. They were about twenty and he did not know exactly what it looked like to the one he was looking for. The best fighter.The leader of the barbarians. He mentally cursed having been assigned to that task, but, after all, it was his job. Surely the sound of the wind brushing against the trees would disguise their footsteps, advanced to the next tree. He heard a branch break behind him and before he had time to turn around, he felt someone pull him down.

-I thought the king would never deign to send me to his man of confidence- his voice was sharp, but the force that exerted on him was frankly amazing- although I am very disappointed- he got up, letting the other also do it and turn around and see. He was shorter than he, thin, with a messy blonde hair. Like all barbarians, his chest was bare and covered with intricate black lines, as was his face. His features were soft but the look was sharp and fierce, not of a uniform color but of multiple tonalities. The tan skin, betraying its constant hours under the sun - if being the best thief of the kingdom you let yourself catch so easy, I can understand why they are so desperate to join me to their cause-  
)  
-They sent me in search of a barbarian who stands out among the others, I did not think they were referring to a ... child- he adjusted his cape, trying to maintain his composure. The barbarian ran it with a raised eyebrow

 

-Should I take that as an affront? -

-Take it as you want but you better hurry, the castle is far away and I want to get there before nightfall-

-You will not be really believing that I'm going to go with you just because you found me, Feldspar- he said between laughs-God, how arrogant these noblemen are-

 

-I'm not going to dirty my sword with a simple barbarian- crossed his arms over his chest, with a calm gesture- you'd better obey me-

-Ha!- yelled loudly, drawing the attention of the rest of the men who soon surrounded them. -You are not in any condition. Your arrogance of infiltrating alone among my people is going to be your condemnation-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-Let's do it as you wish- he drew his sword, assessing how long it would take him to knock down the score of barbarians. Not counting on the speed with which an arrow hit the hilt, causing him to let go. It was sheltered by one of the others.

 

 

-You're among men of honor who only fight hand-to-hand battles. They're just going to watch, since it's me you're looking for - he lowered the bow and extended it to someone, staring at him - if you win, my men and I will go with you, swearing allegiance to King Cartman. If you lose- a quick smile was drawn on his lips- you must give me your honor-

 

-You talk too educated to be a savage- he got rid of his cloak lazily, then the hat and finally the shirt, revealing a body much more muscular than the barbarian, apparently that did not come as any surprise.

 

-You believe that we are idiots, inferior- spit with rancor- humiliate my people and still have the guts to require us in a battle that does not correspond to us. We are not sacrificial meat-

 

\- No, of course not - was approaching, looking sideways at others who did not move a single muscle at the order of the blonde - you are worth less than shit-

The first blow went straight to the jaw and made him stagger, he returned the blow to one of his sides, the blond managed to dodge him and launched a kick that fell directly on his ankle. His intention was to tear it down so that the difference in heights did not give him an advantage. Feldspar was more skilled with weapons than with hands, but he managed to avoid most of the blows. He stamped his fist on the blond's stomach, and the latter, using gravity as support, pushed his body forward to fall on top of him achieving his goal: Knock him down. Being on top of him, he grabbed her neck with one hand and with the other threw angry fists at his face. His hands full of blood tightened his neck with anger as he felt it kick. Without changing his expressionless face at any moment, the lack of air forced him to extend his hands. He was surrendering.

\- Holy shit, you're a damn beast- coughed desperately when the blonde released him, pulling air. The barbarian was still sitting on his belly, watching the scene amused. Pleased at his victory - you've won, let me go-

-We made a deal- remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes, running his tongue over his lips- did you forget it? -

 

-My honor?- He rolled his eyes, jaded-Yes, whatever, you win, I Feldspar, the thief, lost my battle honor before a- the blonde's warm lips rested on his without warning. He winced and tried to sit up. The blonde held his wrists behind his head, immobilizing him-What the hell are you doing?-

 

-I'm going to steal your honor- he put his lips on his again, biting, forcing his mouth to open with his tongue -I'm going to dominate you- he lowered his mouth to his neck that still retained the reddish marks of his hands. He moved his hip with all his weight and managed to get free of the grip, getting up.

-I do not know what kind of abominations are used but I will not take part- the barbarian seemed to guess his movements, approaching one of their own, who had formed a kind of fence, requested a rope, while Feldspar was trying to recover his sword . A push came from the human fence and made him fall. The barbarian hurried to sit on him and tie his hands and ankles. The black haired man struggled hard trying to free himself. That was not part of the plan.

-You have skin as white and smooth as a courtesan-he said, tracing the naked abdomen with his fingertips.

-Shut your mouth and let me go-

Oh, Feldspar, are not you a noble? A man with a word? - He let out a giggle while lowering his hand to the belt to hold and turn, leaving him face down on the floor - if you behave well is something that we both enjoy - his fingers spread over his crotch, barely touching him, making him swallow when he noticed the seriousness that this apparent game was taking. He turned around, twenty pairs of eyes attentive to them both, to his defeat, to his total state of submission- take it easy, I already told you- he brought his lips to his ear, leaving a kiss on his cheek- they are just going to observe- He put another thick piece of string on his lips to silence him.

Feldspar had once heard that the barbarians were very ... liberal. Beings connected with their most instinctive part and for that reason they were such good fighters. And lovers, some of his friends had joked. He had never been interested in their existence until King Cartman suggested an alliance and obviously he, being his trusted man, had to convince them. At whatever price, he had sentenced him. He began to study their customs, their fighting methods, everything. When he read in those ancient books that Token liked so much, that the barbarians had no distinction between men or women and that their war prizes used to be carnal, he believed that they were only legends, exaggerations. Now he felt the lips of the blonde delineating his back, one hand massaging his limb on the trousers and the other holding his hip, making him face with the veracity of the facts. What he had gotten himself into and how expensive it would make him pay the king to force him to go through that. Although the other's hands were warm, though, ignoring the bonds, he was being gentle. It seemed that it was only the two of them, the other barbarians so impassive. The blonde's lips reached his waist and his hands decided to tempt inside the clothes. Skin with skin.Going up and down at a slow pace, sleepy. Pleasurable. At the end of the day he was also just a pawn, a person following orders. Who could judge him, who could prosecute him, if all this had been by the king's command. He rested his cheek against the earth, feeling the grass tickle his nose and made an almost involuntary attempt to open his legs wider, an attempt that was not overlooked by the blonde. Without saying anything, with that kindness so out of place, he hastened to untie his legs and disarm him. Again, he was giving up.

 

-Leave the hands, I like how it feels- he whispered, thanking to continue face down so he did not notice the blush. The blond returned to his task, tightening his limb more securely, rising and falling, spreading the precum to lubricate it. He moaned softly, anxiously. The hand went up and down, teeth and tongue running down his back, reaching the coccyx. He pulled his pants down to his knees and raised his hips. He felt his breath brush his naked bottom and a chill broke his spine. A wet and hard meddling between her buttocks made him gasp.

-Relax,I'm not going to hurt you- his breath tickled when he spoke. He stood still for a moment, trying to abandon himself to the sensation of that new experience without fear. His tongue penetrated him making him feel dizzy, light, expectant. The hands on his member, all his nerves were excited, his whole body was exhausted. He opened his legs wider, extending his arms to allow the other to reach further inside. The wet tongue left him and in his place felt a pair of fingers enter, facilitated by the saliva. They opened and closed as if looking for something. Entering, leaving. Palpating until he came across an area that made him moan loader, scratching the ground. He did not see him but could guess the victorious smile of the other, attacking that point again a couple of times. He could hear the other's pants fall and he could not help but bite his lips at what was coming. With a torturous slowness for both, the blond was making way inside him until entering completely. The thief breathed heavily a couple of times, his face red and tears on the edge of pain. He left with the same slowness and again gave him a couple of minutes to adjust until he nodded, allowing him to go deeper and faster. His walls were wrapped around him in a way that made him lose his head. Inside, outside, seeing his member lose himself in those white mountains was too much. He wished he had a civilized name, a name that could be pronounced by those arrogant lips that no longer tried to hide the gasps that pleasure was provoking. He turned his hands to his member to masturbate him to the rhythm of his attacks, sympathizing with the knees of the thief who gave a small rotation because of these. With one hand masturbating and the other pulling on his hair, making him bend his neck, letting him know who was in charge. He heard him moan louder and from the way his walls narrowed, he was not surprised to feel the semitransparent fluid between his fingers. He increased his speed, sensing his own orgasm and knew, from the perfectly round mouth of the blue-eyed man, that if he had not been so tired from the recent ejaculation, he would have become hard again just to feel him end up inside of him. He sat up stunned with pleasure and extended his hand to the black-haired man, who still rolled his eyes so as not to look at him, embarrassed. He adjusted his clothes like a small child and smiled at him.

-What will you say to King Cartman when you return? - He said, with a hint of sweetness, kissing his wrists after untying them.

-That i was just following his orders- he adjusted his cloak, massaging his newly freed hands, turning to see him with a lopsided smile- earns time at any price-

The blond's confused face paled at the understanding. He turned to see his men, who so lost in the show they had just starred in had not intuited the intruders. They did not have time to react when they were surrounded. It was impossible to flee, they were quickly subdued and dragged to the wagons. Clyde and Token held the barbarian. He looked at Feldspar with his eyes flushed with fury and shame. He had tricked him, had faked everything to give time for the ambush. Before they took him with the rest, the blue-eyed man made a sign to Token.

-I need that before telling the king that we already got the barbarian, take him to my rooms. And that you and Clyde accompany us-

\- With what orders? - He asked, surprised.

-Observe-


	5. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this day i choose hands

It was his favorite costume on him. That cut accentuated every curve and line of his body, highlighting the amber color of his eyes as well. His eternal disdainful gesture gave him an absent and mysterious air, although in reality there was nothing of that in his person. He was a typical carefree boy. Charming in its simplicity without traps, in his suit without a tie and his tear to scratch his back, claiming it itched. Guilt stings like a very small spider too, he wanted to joke but all his strength was concentrated on not bursting into tears. He was a good actor but that scene was out of his script and he was improvising too fast. He twisted the edges of his jacket, trying not to fall into the old tics of his childhood. Despite his frown, cursed by perpetual equanimity, his lips and eyes smiled making him look more radiant than ever, dimming the elegant decoration, the waterfalls of white and yellow flowers, the bride herself, although to be fair it was beautiful, with his face just as excited as the man who in moments would give his last name and leave him completely and indisputably out of the game.

It was not as if he had ever had a chance, although now he wants to look for a hidden signal in the way he asked him to stay and talk a little more with him, or that he played a special piano song. Something more than a closed confidence when he told him his concerns or asked for some advice. Something that can justify the bitter knot in his chest to see him kiss the bride. A fraternal hand at his side pats his leg with indulgence.

 

-You were not ready to see your daughter get married, Tweek?-his lips tremble without leaving them except a plaintive moan-I understand perfectly that no one want to see ours babies grow up, but everybody can see that Craig is a very decent man-

Tweek was not one of those possessive or overprotective parents. He knew that part of growing up is falling in love and although his story had ended in a very painful divorce, he never filled his daughter's head with fears. On the contrary, he tried to make her see how natural and necessary it was. And although the first impression he had of Craig was of a boy who was not very expressive, he did not let his prejudices get in the way. After all, the choice had been hers, and he, as a father, had only to take care of her and support her. There was an opportunity to meet him, to chat a few times at breakfast. He tried not to be invasive, but he had to admit that he liked the boy's company and maybe it was not always a coincidence that he went through both of them to pick them up at the end of class. Or that he mysteriously forgot to tell him that his daughter had gone to spend the weekend with her mother, offering to stay and drink a beer anyway. Of course he knew that Craig was a very decent man. He was the best man of all, a pure, beautiful heart. A man for whom some nights, with veils of sanity totally torn, would not have cared to betray his daughter.

-Mr. Tweak- under the deafening applause and rain of petals as they walked through the middle of the guest chairs, he stopped in front of him. His daughter, holding his arm, smiled sweetly at his red eyes - I have no words to thank you for everything you has done for me, for us. I owe you have the most incredible woman in the world - he extended his arm and Tweek sat up, no longer wanting to disguise the embarrassing tears that wet his tie.

 

That handshake was the most bitter of his life.


	6. Detention

He had to hold his fingers against his nose for the blood to stop, but he did not duck his head. He struck the shoulder of the hand that held him.

 

-I can go alone- walked with his back straight, despite the intense pain in his shin. Nothing more than that and a couple of scrapes on the knee for regret. On the other hand the other boy had been made shit. He noticed in the blood already drying in his hands strands of hair like trophies of war. The sirens of the ambulance were his Triumphal March as he felt the terrified looks of the students on him and he was tempted to greet them as if he were in a parade, in an awards ceremony. He did not want to be a hero. He was not a kind of vigilante or anything like that. Neither of course was a troublemaker, although almost every afternoon of elementary had spent in detention, was not one of those who hit the first blows.

  
  


Just when he heard Tweek's name between that fool's lips everything in him turn out. He had called him "Fucking Junkie" and his friends had laughed.   
  
Craig was not as good with fists as Tweek, but anger is a devastating force, a blinding light. He knew that if Mr. Mackey had not arrived at that precise moment, he might have ended up killing someone. He fitted the blue chullo, trying not to soil it. How he would laugh at his little coffee bean when he told him how the idiot's bones had blown, Mr. Mackey's scared face when he and a couple of students had to hold him to release the child. You´re  a damn pit bull, he would say before giving him one of those quick and innocent kisses that left him with burning cheeks.

 

That's what kids do at thirteen. Kiss two seconds, hit each other and go to detention for two weeks. Not being in a hospital because of methamphetamine overdose. He breathed heavily, clenching his fists. Tweek was not to blame for his parents being monsters, he never asked. He did not even know what they were doing. Forcing him to drink coffee with methamphetamine. The whole town seemed more interested in where they got the drug than in worrying about the child when it collapsed. He was at his side. He held her hand very strong when he began to scream with pain before he began to convulse. Tweek was a very good boy. Noble and funny, normal. A bit paranoid, but honestly in these times Who is not a little? An obedient child who only did what his parents ordered and who had now left him in a critical condition in the hospital. He sniffed his nose and spat before the disgusted gesture of the adult.   
  
-Tucker, I'm afraid this time it's more serious than a few days in detention. If the parents of that child sue you, we will not be able to cover you up-he said, holding him by the shoulder before he entered the detention room.   
  
-I do not care- shrugged, taking a couple of steps to the front- anyway I can not stay today, Tweek can wake up and I do not want him to be alone- before he could hold him, he ran, leaving a trace of blood where he fled.

  
  



	7. Last

At eleven years old, Tweek already had his definition of love very clear. For him, love was for example, when Craig put his fingers in his nose and then muddied them in his jacket, believing that nobody had seen him. And hold that same hand on the way to the cafeteria without feeling disgusted. Or when Craig made him look a thousand times at his favorite Red Racer chapter, even though he was not so passionate about the program.  
If it started as a game, if he was just his favorite friend, it was something that had nothing to do with love, he thought. For him the love was to fall asleep in the armchair of Craig's house after a grueling session of video games and junk food, and know that he would still be there.

 

Craig thought friendship was the best thing in the world. When Token paid for ice cream so that Clyde would stop crying, when Jimmy told jokes that made him laugh until his nose slipped, he knew there was nothing better. Or so he believed until Tweek joined them. Maybe it was because their houses were a little closer, because he liked the free chocolate that his parents gave him whenever he visited him in the cafeteria, or because of the funny way his teeth squeaked from time to time, but he liked a little more spending time with Tweek, although his jokes were not so good.

Maybe because he was the only one who hugged him without laughing when he arrived with red eyes from crying all night because Tricia had ruined the TV and missed his favorite show. Maybe because he softly murmur the answers in class math when he saw him count with his fingers if the theacher asked him. Maybe because his hair was like sharp branches but it smelled like chewing gum. Maybe because he liked it when he said goodbye to him with a kiss on the cheek, although the others laughed at them.

He must have known before, but Tweek was always more awake than he, although sometimes it seemed the opposite. On his friend's birthday, he put on his Sunday church costume, took off his blue cap and combed his hair as best he could. He wrapped the box of legos, the spatial version he had chosen to give him. He ran downstairs, eager to reach his turn in the inflatable that the Tweak rented. Their parties were not as ostentatious as Cartman, but Tweek found a way to do all the things more special. His mother stopped him before leaving, asking him to pick up Tricia at her friend's house, that she was late for work. He refused, he made the sign of the family, but Laura, determined, threatened him. If he did not pick up his sister, no more Red Racer. He weighed things and decided that after all, Tweek's house was not that far away and it was not so late yet.

 

Tricia had hurt her ankle when she fell off her bicycle. Mom and Dad were already at work and although her friend's mother offered to accompany her, Craig could not leave her sister alone in the hospital, knowing how much fear the syringes gave her. He was the oldest and he was not going to leave her crying alone and scared. Even if the hours passed and the afternoon went away. When dad came for Tricia, he did not even say goodbye, he just ran. He saw the plastic castle already deflated between the garage and Tweek's house, the mother of the blond picking up the glasses and the remains of food watered in the garage greeted him and signaled him, indicating that her son was waiting for him in the kitchen.He walked almost without saying hello to Richard. Astonished to see his friend with a sleepy face but bright eyes, holding in his hands full of confetti, a plastic dish with a huge slice of cake.

-I saved the last slice for you. I knew you would come-

At that moment, Craig knew what love meant.


	8. Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love totally and really Made this prompt. I love my babies!

At eleven years old, Tweek already had his definition of love very clear. For him, love was for example, when Craig put his fingers in his nose and then muddied them in his jacket, believing that nobody had seen him. And hold that same hand on the way to the cafeteria without feeling disgusted. Or when Craig made him look a thousand times at his favorite Red Racer chapter, even though he was not so passionate about the  program.

If it started as a game, if he was just his favorite friend, it was something that had nothing to do with love, he thought. For him the love was to fall asleep in the armchair of Craig's house after a grueling session of video games and junk food, and know that he would still be there.

  
  


Craig thought friendship was the best thing in the world. When Token paid for ice cream so that Clyde would stop crying, when Jimmy told jokes that made him laugh until his nose slipped, he knew there was nothing better. Or so he believed until Tweek joined them. Maybe it was because their houses were a little closer, because he liked the free chocolate that his parents gave him whenever he visited him in the cafeteria, or because of the funny way his teeth squeaked from time to time, but he liked a little more spending time with Tweek, although his jokes were not so good.

 

Maybe because he was the only one who hugged him without laughing when he arrived with red eyes from crying all night because Tricia had ruined the TV and missed his favorite show. Maybe because he softly murmur the answers in class math when he saw him count with his fingers if the theacher asked him. Maybe because his hair was like sharp branches but it smelled like chewing gum. Maybe because he liked it when he said goodbye to him with a kiss on the cheek, although the others laughed at them.

 

He must have known before, but Tweek was always more awake than he, although sometimes it seemed the opposite. On his friend's birthday, he put on his Sunday church costume, took off his blue cap and combed his hair as best he could. He wrapped the box of legos, the spatial version he had chosen to give him. He ran downstairs, eager to reach his turn in the inflatable that the Tweak  rented. Their parties were not as ostentatious as Cartman, but Tweek found a way to do all the things more special. His mother stopped him before leaving, asking him to pick up Tricia at her friend's house, that she was late for work. He refused, he made the sign of the family, but Laura, determined, threatened him. If he did not pick up his sister, no more Red Racer. He weighed things and decided that after all, Tweek's house was not that far away and it was not so late yet.   
  
  
Tricia had hurt her ankle when she fell off her bicycle. Mom and Dad were already at work and although her friend's mother offered to accompany her, Craig could not leave her sister alone in the hospital, knowing how much fear the syringes gave her. He was the oldest and he was not going to leave her crying alone and scared. Even if the hours passed and the afternoon went away. When dad came for Tricia, he did not even say goodbye, he just ran. He saw the plastic castle already deflated between the garage and Tweek's house, the mother of the blond picking up the glasses and the remains of food watered in the garage greeted him and signaled him, indicating that her son was waiting for him in the kitchen.He walked almost without saying hello to Richard. Astonished to see his friend with a sleepy face but bright eyes, holding in his hands full of confetti, a plastic dish with a huge slice of cake.   
  
-I saved the last slice for you. I knew you would come-   
  
At that moment, Craig knew what love meant.

 


End file.
